


Things Left Unsaid

by reginahalliwell



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gap Filler, Introspection, Mental Link, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-X1, Present Tense, Unresolved Sexual Tension, X2: X-Men United (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 17:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12487324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginahalliwell/pseuds/reginahalliwell
Summary: There are a dozen things they both want to say in that uncomfortable silence, but the moment N*SYNC starts blasting on the radio—what was Scott listening to before?—it startles them out of such serious thoughts.Set in X2 car scene as Marie gives Logan back his tags.





	Things Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Pretend the X1 extended scene where Marie tells Bobby her real name never happened.

There are a dozen things they both want to say in that uncomfortable silence, but the moment N*SYNC starts blasting on the radio—what _was_ Scott listening to before?—it startles them out of such serious thoughts. 

Logan’s thinking, _God, I wish you wouldn’t have picked a time like now to give these back_. Without realizing it, he wishes the moment had been more private, more intimate. Like when he left the tags with her.

He thinks about Marie in that nightgown, her bare shoulders and arms much more exposed than the last time they saw each other. Her skin had always straddled the line between inviting and forbidden (for many reasons, the least of which was the physical danger involved). Now it seems to Logan that she’s grown up a bit since he last saw her.

He thinks, without realizing how narcissistic and ridiculous it is, _did she wear that for me?_ Then, realizing his absurdity, he thinks, _she better not have worn that for the kid, Bobby, Ice-man, whatever._ He thinks the latter is more likely but selfishly hopes it’s the former. 

He thinks she’s still underage ( _Not in Canada!_ his brain insists), that she looks gorgeous with the platinum stripe in her hair and her perky breasts filling in, and he knows he’s an asshole for even thinking of her in those ways. But he still thinks it.

Logan thinks he’s in big trouble either way, because despite his flirtation with Jean, that gorgeous redhead seems completely devoted to One-Eye. He thinks the chances are slim that will ever play out the way he’d like. He thinks Jean is a much more appropriate lover than Marie, and he thinks he’s an idiot for even trying to compare them.

 _She seems happy_ , he had thought when he saw her with her _boyfriend_ upon his return. Then again, he thinks now that she had come to see him probably just from the sound of Cyke’s bike engine, and she’d have to have been pretty desperate to see him if she was listening for it. He thinks _, she could be more creative about touching if she really wanted to be with the boy_. He thinks he could be _much_ more creative.

He’s satisfied to see the tags around her wrist, like they’ve been there every day since he left her, left them in her care. He thinks they’d look even better around her neck like a collar, telling the whole world she’s _his_ , she’s under his protection—or at least that’s how he’d play it if anyone questioned the nature of their relationship.

He thinks the tags would fit nice and snug between her breasts, but now she’s taking them off her wrist and dropping them in his hand. He’s sad to see them leaving her body—for all that he’s missed them while he’s been away, Logan has gone to bed at night dreaming about his green cloaked goddess and how one day she’ll really be his.

Now what he’s thinking is more like _Oh, shit_ , because her bare fingers graze his palm _just enough_ and in that split second he knows that everything he’s thinking and feeling is also in her head. He thinks the microsecond of pain and weakness he feels as she takes him in is nothing compared to the mental bashing he’s giving himself now for putting them both in this position.

He looks at her in the eye and thinking turns to knowing. He knows he’s fucked, because it was bad enough that she got a ton of him in her head when he stabbed her that night that seems so long ago. Now, though, thoughts of her are in the front of his mind and he knows exactly what she must have gotten out of that barest of touches.

Marie thinks it’s a strange combination of them in this car; John’s the odd-man out, really, because between her and Logan and Bobby, they’re already in an awkward spot. Marie thinks that it’s strange having her boyfriend not knowing her real name unlike the man sitting next to her. She thinks it makes perfect sense that the boys—and that’s truly what they are—get right into the back seat, because she’s the only one that really feels safe and even comfortable in close proximity to Logan.

She thinks she’s missed the Wolverine. Her Wolverine.

Marie thinks suddenly that she should give the tags back to Logan. _That’s probably why he’s paying any attention to me at all_ , she thinks dully. Then she hopes, wants to believe that can’t be true with the way he’s looking at her.

She pulls apart the chain on her wrist, wishing she would have worn the tags around her neck tonight like she normally does. _He probably thinks I’m only wearing them because he’s back_ , she thinks, _like I haven’t been wearing them constantly since he left. When I’m sleeping, in the shower, under all these layers, they’re always there._

Marie drops the tags into his open palm, the silence deafening between the two of them. They both forget about the boys in the back seat. Marie thinks that should have waited to do this when they’re not _literally on the run from a anti-mutant military assault_. She thinks she wasted an opportunity to have an intimate moment with Logan. She thinks it probably wouldn’t matter. She’s just his “kid,” the tag-a-long girl who definitely didn’t save his life at that bar in Canada.

Then, as her fingers _accidentally_ graze his palm, everything she thinks about this situation is turned on its head. Suddenly, she _knows_ exactly what Logan thinks of her. She feels a little jolt of his healing mutation enter her, just long enough to cure the scuff of her elbow and the pain in her stubbed toe from running from Stryker’s men all through the mansion.

Marie thinks it’s suddenly _very inappropriate_ to be having these thoughts with her would-be lover sitting next to her and her actual current boyfriend behind her. She thinks that her dreams may one day become a reality. She thinks she’s really glad that she let herself believe she could have the Wolverine all to herself. She thinks she needs to break up with Bobby soon—or maybe figure some things out with him first that might come in handy with future lovers— _well, with Logan._  

She thinks, _he knows I know_. She looks down briefly, glancing at her breasts and wondering if they’re worth his admiration. She thinks she needs to grow up damn quick, because she wants to be with this man for the rest of her life. Marie thinks if she wishes hard enough, this moment may pass by without further embarrassment for either of them.

They’re both completely aware of what’s lying unsaid between them. Logan’s thoughts are pretty damn clear on the matter, despite the moral objections he foresees the others posing. Marie’s thinking right now is not the time to be having big conversations like this—not that they were actually conversing. 

They both know Marie can’t un-hear what she heard, that Logan’s thoughts can’t be taken back. That this is the most honest conversation either of them has had in a while. That what’s left unsaid for now has to stay unsaid, for now at least. That Logan and Marie need to just be Wolverine and Rogue for a little longer before they can be what they want to each other.

And when that cacophonous blast of pop music erupts unexpectedly from the car radio (which Marie recognizes, but of course Logan doesn’t), they are completely in tune with each other’s appreciation for this convenient distraction.

 _Thank God_ , she thinks.

He breathes a mental sigh of relief.

Both reactions are subsumed beneath the alarmingly loud music, leaving what’s between them left unsaid for another day.


End file.
